Her Little Secret, His Hidden Heir(19)

       
           



       

But he'd been in big business long enough to know that when someone gave   up something too easily, it was usually because they were trying to  get  or retain something even more important to them. His best guess was   that Vanessa was trying to retain distance.

She'd wasted no time moving to Summerville the minute their divorce was   final, and as far as he could tell, she'd been perfectly happy settling   in with her aunt and making her mark on the small town through The  Sugar  Shack.

If Fate hadn't somehow intervened to bring him here himself, he never   would have known where she'd relocated to or that she had a child. His   child.

Oh, yes, she'd wanted distance then, and she wanted it now. And if she   pissed him off-or kept him pissed off-then he'd be less likely to stick   around for any length of time, wouldn't he?

Which only made him want to stick around more. He was contrary like that   sometimes, a fact Vanessa was well aware of. She should have known  that  if he caught on to her little plan, he'd make a point of doing  pretty  much the exact opposite of what she wanted, just to vex her.

Of course, there was a good chance she didn't even realize she had a   little plan. That she was running heavily on instinct, her current   thoughts and actions more subconscious than anything else.

But it still intrigued him, and if he hadn't wanted to stick around   before just to be close to the child he hadn't known existed, he   certainly did now. He was even looking forward to it, considering the   entertaining side benefits he'd recently discovered could be added to   his stay.

Tossing back the covers, he moved to the edge of the bed and sat up. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I don't hate you."

He pushed to his feet and walked toward her stark naked. Where she'd   fought so hard to protect her modesty and stay covered, he didn't bother   and wasn't the least bit self-conscious about his nudity.

When she saw him coming, she took a jerky step back, away from him, but   he wasn't really after her. Bending at the waist, he scooped up the   tangled ball of his pants and underwear.

"I'm not happy about what you did," he clarified, climbing into his   clothes with slow, deliberate movements, "and I can't say that I don't   harbor a bit of anger and resentment over it. Or that there won't be   moments when that anger and resentment flare hotter than anything else."

He leaned down for his wrinkled shirt and shrugged it on, but didn't   bother buttoning it, leaving his chest bare down the middle. "But we've   covered that ground already. Keeping Danny from me-or the pregnancy to   begin with-was wrong. That's time and an experience I can't get back.   Now that I know I have a son, however, things are going to change. I am   going to be involved in his life-and therefore in yours."

She was standing only about three feet from him, clutching that red   dress to her brea**sts to cover as much of her front as she could. It   was silly and useless, a bit like locking the barn door after the bull   had already escaped, but Marc found her false sense of modesty oddly   endearing.

"You should probably come to terms with that," he told her matter-of-factly. "The sooner, the better."

She simply stood there, staring at him. Her eyes sparkled like polished   sapphires, but whether with fear or rage or mere confusion, he couldn't   quite tell.

While he had her off balance-which was a nice switch, frankly, since   she'd pretty much had him off balance from the moment he'd driven into   town-he tossed another can of gasoline on the bonfire that just seemed   to continue blazing between them.

"Here's something else you should probably take into consideration," he   said quietly, widening his stance and crossing his arms determinedly in   front of him.

Vanessa didn't reply. Instead, she cocked her head, the tendons at the   sides of her throat convulsing as she swallowed, waiting nervously for   him to elaborate.

"We didn't use a condom, which means that you may even now get pregnant with our second child."





Nine




Oh, God.

Marc's words slammed into Vanessa's chest like a bullet, knocking the   air from her lungs and making her literally stagger on her feet.

What had she been thinking? Bad enough she'd fallen into bed with her   ex-husband faster than a star falls from the sky, but she'd completely   forgotten about protection of any kind. It had never occurred to her to   insist he use a condom, and since she was a new mother, still   breast-feeding and with absolutely zero romantic prospects on the   horizon, it hadn't been necessary for her to be on birth control.                       
       
           



       

She tried to do the math in her head, to figure out when her last period   had been and when she was due again, but panic kept her thoughts in a   tailspin.

And what about the breast-feeding? Wasn't it supposed to be harder to get pregnant while still nursing?

Dear God, please let that be true, because she couldn't even fathom the   idea that she might actually be pregnant again, unexpectedly, unplanned   and by her former husband. It was almost too horrifying to  contemplate.

"I'm not," she said, as though saying it firmly and decisively enough would make it true.

Marc raised a dark, sardonic brow. "How can you be so sure."

"I'm just not," she insisted, tearing frantically at her dress until she   got her feet inside and could yank it up. Never mind that it was open   all the way to her bottom in the back because she couldn't raise the   zipper without help. She would walk home with it hanging loose, if she   had to, rather than ask him for one iota of assistance.

"And what were you thinking?" she charged, stamping a foot as she   slipped it into a strappy red heel. "How could you do that-let me do   that-without taking precautions?" She cast him an angry, accusatory   glare. "I've never known you to be so irresponsible."

He shrugged, looking exponentially more casual and unconcerned than she   was feeling at that particular moment. "What can I say? I was swept  away  by your beauty and passion, and the exhilaration of being with you   again after such a long absence."

Pausing in the act of shoving on her other shoe, she tilted her head in   his direction and gave a loud, unladylike snort. "Please," she scoffed.

"Is that so hard to believe?" he asked, still wearing the blank mask that gave her no clue of his true emotions.

Was he upset that they'd forgotten to use protection? Happy? Angry? Excited? Confused? Nauseous?

Because she was nauseous. And upset and angry and confused. There was no happiness or excitement anywhere on her radar.

If it turned out she really was pregnant … oh, God, please don't let her   be pregnant again-not by Marc, and not so soon after Danny's birth … she   would of course love the baby. Unconditionally and without question. But   the difference between loving an existing child and loving the notion   of carrying an as-yet imaginary one-especially under these   circumstances-was like the difference between black and white, hot and   cold, thirsty and drowning.

She loved Danny with all her heart and soul. She wouldn't trade him for   anything, or even go back and undo the events that had led to his  birth.

But she sure as hell wouldn't choose to be pregnant again. Not so soon   after having one child, not without benefit of marriage, and not with a   man she'd so recently divorced.

She was already linked too closely to Marc, thanks to his discovery of   Danny's existence. But the thought of being even more closely connected   to him through a second child would be a nightmare come to life.

He was almost foaming-at-the-mouth rabid about staying close to her now   that he knew about Danny. Having him know from the very beginning that   he was going to be a father a second time would turn him into   near-stalker material. She would never get rid of him, not even for   short amounts of time while he commuted back and forth between   Pittsburgh and Summerville.

Oh, no, knowing Marc, he would do something ridiculous like move to   Summerville himself, or insist they get remarried and then drag her back   to the city where she would be trapped and miserable all over again.

No, no, no, no, no. Vanessa's head was shaking like a tambourine as she   ran her gaze around the room, looking for anything she might have   forgotten. Her purse, her watch, an earring …

"I think you underestimate your appeal," Marc remarked, apparently missing the nuclear meltdown taking place inside her.